


Disciplinary Action

by eerian_sadow



Series: A Long Term Arrangement [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Caning, Community: kink_bingo, Dominance and Submission, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Bingo 2013, M/M, kink: caning, sadism and masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:45:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl needs to punish his wayward subordinate, but something's not quite right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disciplinary Action

**Author's Note:**

> for kink bingo 2013, filling my "caning" square. 
> 
> thanks to my twitter peeps for encouraging me on this when my writing mojo was slain. you guys kept me going.
> 
> and even more thanks to wicked3659, for asking the right questions, waving pompoms anthe beta work.

"Sunstreaker."

Prowl's voice was hard and it reduced the yellow mech from a proud warrior to a repentant inferior in less than a second. He sank to his knees and looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Are you?" The black and white mech turned away from his view port and faced the kneeling mech. "Are you truly? Because, after your repeated acts of disrespect and aggression, I find that exceptionally difficult to believe."

"I'm sorry sir," Sunstreaker repeated in a whisper. And he was, more than Prowl could possibly understand. He just... didn't have any control when the others got him wound up.

"Sunstreaker, I want to believe you, but nothing has changed since our arrival here." Prowl crouched down and put a finger under the yellow mech's chin. He tipped Sunstreaker's head up until the other mech was looking him in the optics. "If nothing changes, I will have to end our arrangement."

"It will, sir. I promise." The frontliner's expression was pleading. "Please, let me prove it. I can be better."

"Very well. You may have one last chance." The tactician pulled his hand back and rested his arm on his knee. "But you understand that you must still be punished for this infraction? Your previous behavior cannot be allowed to continue."

"I understand, sir." Sunstreaker trembled. Prowl's tone promised _something_ , but the warrior couldn't determine what.

The black and white mech stood up. "Then go to the cabinet and bring me a switch."

The yellow twin’s optics went wide. A switch would _hurt_ , as well as do horrible things to his finish.

"Is there a problem, Sunstreaker?"

"No, sir!" Sunstreaker scrambled to his feet before the tactician could think of a worse punishment.

He could feel Prowl watching as he made his way to the storage cabinet. Forcing his trembling fingers still, the frontliner opened the door and surveyed the implements inside. Prowl kept a variety of tools for punishing his wayward subordinate, and it would take a moment to locate what he had been sent after.

He felt a flash of relief when his optics fell on the assortment of switches and canes. The black and white mech wouldn't give him any additional punishment for taking too long to bring the implement back. He selected the widest of the switches, Prowl's least favorite because it was made of Earth synthetics and had more flexibility than he preferred while giving Sunstreaker his punishments, and took it back to the officer. The yellow mech preferred it, however, because it stung but didn't crack or strip off his paint.

Prowl took the switch and gave Sunstreaker a thoughtful look. "Are you afraid, Sunstreaker?"

"No, sir," he replied honestly. Always honestly, because Prowl's punishments were much worse if the yellow mech tried to lie. "I just don't want to have to repaint myself again."

"Such vanity." The tactician frowned. "That is a very large part of the problem."

"I know, sir. I'm sorry, sir." The warrior looked at the floor again to escape Prowl's disapproving glare.

"No, I don't believe you are. Not yet, at any rate." Sunstreaker flicked his gaze up in time to see Prowl smirk. "Go to the berth and bend yourself over it. Present your aft to the door."

Indignation flared in the yellow mech. If his aft was presented to the door, anyone entering Prowl's quarters would see his punishment. And since several of the officers were known to visit the tactician's quarters unannounced, and in Jazz's case had the codes for the rare times the door was locked, it was a real possibility that he would be subjected to the humiliation of having his punishment observed today the way Jazz and Red Alert had in the past.

Sunstreaker quashed his smart response before it could get him into more trouble with the black and white mech. If Prowl wanted his punishment to be observed, it would be. "Yes, sir."

The yellow twin turned and walked into the berthroom. He approached the berth with something close to nervousness. Prowl was going to punish him, but Sunstreaker had no idea how severely. Whatever the tactician was planning, it would be intense and the frontliner wasn't sure he was prepared for it.

He laid himself out, bent over the berth and aft presented toward the door as instructed. He knew Prowl was watching, but he called out anyway. "I'm ready, sir."

The yellow twin listened intently for Prowl's soft footsteps as the tactician entered the room. The other mech didn't always speak before administering his punishments, whether they were canings or something more creative, but if Sunstreaker paid attention he knew when the officer was approaching him.

"When the switch strikes, I want you to count out loud. If you stop or miss a number, we will go back to one and begin again. You will receive strikes until you have successfully counted to thirty." The tactician tapped the end of the switch against Sunstreaker's thigh. "Do you understand your instructions?"

"Yes, sir. I count each strike until I count to thirty. If I mess up, I have to start back at one again." The frontliner shifted before repeating the last bit. This instruction was new and he wasn't sure he was comfortable with it. "Once I count to thirty, the strikes will stop."

"Very good." Prowl removed the switch from Sunstreaker's thigh and immediately lashed it across the yellow mech's aft.

Sunstreaker jolted at the sudden pain. The switch he had chosen stung like acid rain. "One!"

The tactician struck him again, directly over the first strike. What had been a sharp, stinging pain turned into a deeper burn. If he had known Prowl would compensate for the lightweight switch's recoil this way, Sunstreaker would have picked one of the heavier Cybertronian canes instead. Not only would strikes like this damage his paint beyond scratching the topcoat, it might cut the base plating beneath too.

His punishment would be very clearly evident until his self-repair filled in the cuts.

Prowl tapped the switch against the yellow mech's thigh again. "I'm disappointed, Sunstreaker. Is your punishment so harsh that you forgot how to count to two?" 

Sunstreaker bit back the urge to curse. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts if he had forgotten Prowl's rules already. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Begin again." Prowl struck a third time, thankfully below the burning plating he'd lashed before.

"One!" The yellow twin counted immediately. He barely managed to prepare himself for the next strike, which angled across both lines of injured plating. The burn of the first marks increased, deepening into the kind of pain he normally experienced only in combat. "Two!"

The tactician brought the cane down again, in another diagonal stroke that intersected all the other marks he had made. 

Sunstreaker howled in pain as his sensor net registered damage to his base plating. His sessions with Prowl were not supposed to be like this. "Soundwave!"

Prowl dropped the switch as if it had burned him. Immediately, he rushed to Sunstreaker's side and wrapped his arm around the yellow mech's shoulders. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"This isn't what we discussed, Prowl." The warrior turned to his side so that he could return his lover's embrace. "You're not sticking with the plan, and you hurt me."

"Sunny..."

"Really hurt, Prowl. My damage alert popped up."

"Oh, Primus." The tactician pulled himself out of the other mech's arms and leaned across Sunstreaker to look at the plating he had abused. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. Let me get the repair kit."

The yellow mech wrapped his hand around the black and white's wrist before Prowl could do more than take a step away from the berth. "It'll wait a minute. Come up here and tell me what's wrong."

"I'm fine. Let me patch you up."

"You're not fine." Sunstreaker tugged gently and Prowl collapsed onto he berth next to him. "You don't get lost like that when you're fine. Tell me, please."

Prowl hesitated for a long moment. The yellow mech waited patiently, knowing that the tactician was deciding what he could say without giving away any details that were above his security clearance. "Mirage and Bumblebee are in medbay after being extracted from the Combaticon base. Ratchet is... unsure of their chances."

"Oh, Prowl." Sunstreaker curled around the other mech, hugging him close and trying to give what comfort he could. "You should have told me. I didn't need it that badly."

"I did. I needed _something_ to be in control again."

"There are other ways to do that, and they don't involve the safeword." The frontliner leaned in and kissed the tactician. "We can try one or two, after you're steady again. If you still need to, I mean."

Prowl returned the kiss hesitantly. "Thank you. But I think what I need now is to repair the damage I did, including that paint you were trying to keep intact."

"Okay. Tell me if you need more than that. You know I'm probably game."


End file.
